


Into the Fire

by Piscaria



Category: Transformers (Bayverse)
Genre: Camaro!Bee, Other, Plug and Play, holo!Bee, human/mech, kink:bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the base's resident expert on human culture, Sam had fumbled his way through some pretty awkward conversations, but even he didn't feel up to tackling the questions Bee would have once he learned that his best friend had somehow developed a fetish for alien robots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Fire

Bee slowed to a stop and opened his door, letting Sam stumble out of the car. Flushed and breathless, Sam leaned back against the Camaro, his knees too shaky to stand. Even after seven years of close contact with the Autobot, Sam still forgot how fast Bee could drive when he put his mind to it. Apparently, so had Sideswipe -- if the cloud of dust that he'd spitefully kicked off as he sped away from the finish line was any indication, the red Lamborghini wouldn't be challenging Bumblebee to another race any time soon.

"Damn," Sam gasped, resting a hand on Bee's sun-warmed hood to steady himself. "Bee, that was incredible."

"_Check on the rep, yep, second to none,_" Bee agreed through the radio, and Sam laughed shakily, still stroking the hood. Sweat soaked his t-shirt, and his erection strained painfully against the front of his jeans. Sam hoped Bee's sensors weren't as powerful as Ratchet's -- he thought even _he_ could smell the pheromones rise off him, lust radiating out from his body in hot waves. Maybe he could chalk it up to the adrenaline.

Warm metal slid beneath Sam's hand as the hood moved, and Bumblebee backed a few feet away. The Camaro unfolded, mechanical pieces whirling and clicking together in fluid, effortless precision. Sam watched appreciatively as Bumblebee reverted back to his bipedal form. Car or robot, there was something enthralling about Bumblebee. Sam didn't think he'd ever get tired of watching him.

Bumblebee offered a hand to him, and Sam swallowed, uncomfortably aware of his erection. It was one thing to get a hard on racing in your robotic car -- come on, Bee was sexy when he moved so fast -- but it was quite another to step into your robotic car's hand with a hard on. Sam wasn't sure he could restrain himself from humping Bee's fingers, or something equally mortifying.

"Nah, I . . .I'm fine," Sam stammered. "I'd rather walk. Walking's good for me."

 

Bumblebee clicked at him, and crouched down so they were more-or-less face-to-face. Of course, Bee's face was almost as big as Sam's body. The Autobot's optics glowed brighter than usual, and Sam squirmed under their light. Bumblebee curled an enormous finger around Sam's shoulders, drawing him a bit closer, and Sam shivered. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Sam," Bumblebee said hesitantly, "I wondered if you might like to watch a movie with me tonight."

For one hopeful moment, Sam wondered if Bumblebee were asking him out on a date. Then common sense reasserted himself -- the base had a movie theater, with a screen as big as anything Sam had seen outside of an IMAX. No doubt, Bee wanted to show him something he'd downloaded off the internet.

"I . . . " Sam swallowed, trying to focus on anything but the solid weight of Bumblebee's finger on his shoulders and the Autobot's sweet metallic smell. "I think I'm busy," he stammered, as Bumblebee's finger stroked his back. Heat coiled in the pit of Sam's stomach, and he swallowed, hoping the Autobot hadn't noticed the sudden hitch in his breathing.

"Tomorrow, maybe?" Bumblebee asked hopefully.

"Sure," Sam said, squirming a little beneath Bumblebee's gaze. "I . . . I've got to go, Bee," he stammered, pulling away from the Autobot's grip. "I just remembered that I've got to be somewhere."

"Sam," Bee started, but the human was already jogging away.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sam yelled over his shoulder.

* * *

Driving an alien robot had forever spoiled earth cars for him, Sam thought a few hours later, as he parked the Ford Focus with the government plates that he kept for the rare occasions when Autobot business called Bumblebee away from the base. Not that Bee left very often -- as ambassador to the Autobots, Sam needed a bodyguard, and Bee had wasted no time getting himself officially appointed to the position he'd occupied since he first met Sam. Bee would be pissed if he knew that Sam had left the base without him, but as close as they were, some things, Sam just wasn't ready to share with his best friend.

The night air chilled Sam as he walked towards the brick building a few blocks away. His college sweater really wasn't warm enough for the desert night, but Sam had wanted to wear it. At 22, he could still pull off the boyish look with the right clothes, and besides, the sweater, jeans, and sunglasses made it a little harder for people to recognize Ambassador Witwicky, with his suits and his Autobot companion. Tonight, Sam didn't want to be the Ambassador. He just wanted to be another boy at the club.

He'd jacked off in the shower earlier, but it hadn't completely eased the heat coiling in his belly or the memory of Bee's joyful tear through the desert. Beneath his towel, his dick stirred again at the memory, and Sam shook his head, thanking his lucky stars that Bumblebee hadn't noticed his attraction yet. As the base's resident expert on human culture, Sam had fumbled his way through some pretty awkward conversations, but even he didn't feel up to tackling the questions Bee would have once he learned that his best friend had somehow developed a fetish for alien robots. Sam hadn't finished working through his own questions yet.

How could his body respond so strongly to one made of alien metal? Pure love Sam could have handled. How could he not love Bee? But love alone couldn't explain why Sam's pulse raced at the sound of Bee's engine, or why a simple race through the desert was enough to leave him weak-kneed and desperately hard.

The finer points of Autobot sex were still a mystery to him -- Ratchet had tried to explain it once, but the mechanic's long and sometimes contradictory descriptions of wires and interfacing and spark energy had left Sam with no clearer insight into most vital thing he needed to know: could an Autobot have sex with a human? Would an Autobot even want to? Bee probably could have cleared it up for him, but Bee would have wanted to know why Sam was so curious. Sam had only figured that out himself a few months ago.

He supposed he had Mikaela to thank. She'd dumped him a year ago, not long after Sam had managed to get the government's agreement to move the Autobot's base from Diego Rivera to California. He'd never forget the day he came home from work to find her packing the last of her clothes into her suitcase.

"I'm leaving you," she'd said, as though it weren't obvious.

Sam had protested, of course, but this time, it hadn't worked. Mikaela hadn't seemed angry when she left -- just sad.

"I'm not sure what you want, Sam," she'd said, kissing his cheek before she swept out the door. "But it isn't me. I'm tired of trying to convince myself that it is."

It had taken Sam three months to agree that she was right. A year after that, he'd finally worked up the courage to admit to himself that his feelings for Bumblebee weren't quite as platonic as he'd once believed. Coming to that realization hadn't simplified his life, though -- if anything, it made it more complicated.

The bodyguard outside the club gave Sam's fake ID a cursory glance before letting him through the door. A wave of heat enveloped Sam as he stepped into the crowded room, fogging his sunglasses. Trusting the pulsing lights of the club to keep people from recognizing him, Sam tucked the glasses into his pocket and made his way through the press of bodies to the bar. He ordered a shot of Jameson and climbed onto a bar stool to watch the crowd. As Sam sipped the whiskey, he looked for a splash of yellow, a bit of leather, a hard body to move against . . . Sam wasn't picky. Then he saw him.

Oh God. He was perfect: the lean, muscled body of a soldier, with sandy hair shorn in a military cut. A thin, yellow t-shirt clung to the faint curves of his pecs, and a black leather jacket made his shoulders look wide. Dark jeans emphasized the bulge at his crotch. As if feeling the weight of Sam's gaze on him, the man turned. Blue eyes met brown, and Sam swallowed, feeling his heart stop in his throat. The head cocked to the side, the lips quirked, appraising him. Something about his posture looked familiar, and Sam wracked his brain, wondering if they'd met before. Was he at the base? That could complicate things.

Sam swallowed, and turned around in his bar stool. Swirling the golden whiskey in his glass, he tried to decide if the slight possibility that they might encounter each other again meant that Sam should look for someone else tonight. The last thing Sam wanted was for one of his chance encounters to somehow bleed into the rest of his life. But that jacket, that shirt, oh God, those eyes . . . heat curled in Sam's belly, and the decision was made.

_No sacrifice, no victory,_ Sam thought, and knocked back the whiskey. Squaring his shoulders, Sam worked up the nerve to swing his barstool around and catch the man's eyes again. Absent-mindedly, he set his shot glass on the counter -- and gasped as a large hand closed around his wrist. Whipping around, Sam found himself staring up into the face of the man in the leather jacket.

"Um, hi," Sam stammered, his heart battering his chest.

The man was larger than he'd looked across the room, his muscles evident beneath his tight yellow t-shirt. This close, Sam could see the ball chain around his neck, disappearing into his t-shirt, where the familiar outline of dog tags were clearly visible beneath the thin fabric. He was a soldier then. The man saw him looking, and smiled, an ironic quirk of his lips.

"Don't ask, don't tell," he said. His deep voice had a British accent, and that more than anything almost did Sam in.

Sam searched for a witty response, but all of the flirtations he'd learned these last six months -- hell, even his usual knack for nervous rambling -- seemed to have deserted him. He swallowed, trying to be cool, trying to be suave, trying to be everything that Sam Witwicky from high school was not. But his skin tingled where the man still held his wrist, as though the strong fingers were sending electrical current into Sam's very bones. He lifted a trembling hand to rest against the man's forearm. The leather jacket was soft and cool beneath Sam's hand.

For a second, the man's smile softened into something tender, and then it was gone, replaced by the familiar, hungry look Sam had seen on so many men these past few months. Sam wondered if he'd only imagined it. Leaning in closer to Sam, the man tugged on his wrist.

"Dance with me," he said.

Wondering if he'd died and gone to heaven, Sam slid off the bar stool and let the man lead him into the crowded dance floor. Lady Gaga's "Disco Stick" was blaring from the speakers.

_I'm on a mission and it involves some heavy touching, yeah_

The man slid off his leather jacket, tossing it behind him, and Sam's protest fell short at the sight of the wide, black tattoo encircling his forearm like a racing stripe. Muscular arms closed around Sam, pulling him closer, and Sam brought his hands up to the broad chest. The man smelled like leather and motor oil, two of Sam's favorite scents.

With his senses dulled from whiskey and caught up in the pulsing music, it was easy for Sam to forget about everything but the strong arms around him, moving him in time to the beat. The man had great rhythm. His hands skimmed over the small of Sam's back, then settled onto the curve of his ass, pulling him closer. Sam gasped as the man's erection brushed his own.

Sliding up onto tiptoes, Sam pressed his face against the man's ear, so he could be heard over the music. "Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked.

"My car is outside," the other man said. He caught Sam's hand, leading him away from the dance floor.

They'd no sooner stepped into the cold, night air than the man was pressing Sam up against the brick wall of the building. Sam's eyes drifted shut as their mouths met, and he wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, sinking into the kiss gratefully.

At first, the man's mouth was awkward against his own, a little clumsy. He drank down the kiss like he was desperate for it, running his hands over Sam's chest and arms. Sam responded with equal fervor, and gradually, the awkwardness faded, swept up by a fire that consumed them both. Sam's fingers had gotten tangled in the man's sandy hair -- moving them lower, he brushed the soft skin on the back of his neck.He found the ball chain around the man's neck, and slid his fingers along it, skirting over the rapid pulse in his throat. Pulling the dag tags from the man's shirt, Sam used them to tug him down, rising up on tiptoes to deepen the kiss.

"Where's your car?" Sam gasped, breaking away.  
The man swallowed, and the confident expression he'd worn all evening flickered, replaced by a hint of wariness.

"It's parked on the curb," he said softly.

Sam could have sworn the curb had been empty when they stepped outside, but as he looked over the man's shoulder, he saw it: a 2009 yellow Camaro with custom racing stripes.

He had one breathless thought of, "Whoah, strange coincidence" but then common sense forced its way through the jumble of lust and alcohol. The eyes, the accent, the clothing, the strange sense of familiarity, and now the car.

Sam glanced down at the dog tags tangled in his hands -- one held an Autobot symbol, the other said only "Bumblebee."

"Shit," Sam breathed.

He started to pull away, but the man caught him and slammed him against the Camaro's door.

"How do you think I feel," Bee's holoform growled, "to feel you riding in me, your pheremones rising for me, to know that you get hot for me, and then go fuck someone else?" For the first time, Sam recognized the voice. It wasn't just the accent that was familiar; this was Bee's voice, minus the electronic edge. Sam shook his head to clear it.

"Bee! I --"

"No," Bee said, gripping Sam's hips so hard that he knew there would be bruises after. "I'm tired of talking. All we ever do is talk. Tonight it's my turn, Sam. I'm going to give you what you deny yourself."

"Bee, I can't!" Sam cried.

"You can't?" Bee growled, pulling away. His eyes flashed at Sam, who swallowed, dizzyingly aware of the Camaro pressed beneath his ass, of the holoform grinding against his erection. Sam shuddered, and drew in a breath. He wanted to cry.

"Very well," Bee said softly. He pulled away, and Sam sagged against the Camaro, positive that Bee was going to drive away and leave him slumped in the street.

Instead, Bee's door flew open, and the holoform pressed back against Sam with inhuman strength, pushing him inside. The front seat folded out of the way, and Sam landed in the back, dazed and gasping. The holoform blinked out of existence, and re-appeared a fraction of a second later, straddling Sam's hips. The door slammed closed behind him, rocking the Camaro.

The holoform caught both of Sam's wrists in one hand and lifted them above Sam's head, holding him down on the leather seat. Sam shuddered, more terrified and turned on than he'd ever been.

The radio crackled to life. "Petunias," Bumblebee said.

"Wha - - what?"

"That's your safe word," the holoform said. Leaned over Sam, he ran a soft thumb down the inside of his wrist. "If you really want me to stop, all you have to do is say it. I'll drive you home. We'll never speak about this again."

Sam shuddered.

"Otherwise," he continued, "I am going to take you, Sam."

Sam swallowed. "Please, no," he whispered.

The hologram's eyes glowed, inhuman, and he leaned forward and captured Sam's mouth with his own. For a dizzying, breathless moment, Sam resisted, his lips pressed tight together, but then Bee's tongue was working into his mouth and Sam was opening up to him, helpless. His eyes drifted shut, and he sank into the kiss, gratefully allowing the Autobot to take control. Bee explored his mouth with almost mathematical precision, and Sam knew that the he was cataloging the tastes and textures. The thought shouldn't have made Sam even hotter, but it did, and he groaned as his erection strained painfully against his jeans. Sam's shirt had ridden up when Bee had lifted his arms above his head, and the feeling of soft leather rubbing against his back was driving him mad. He bucked up, trying to find some relief in the solid pressure of the holoform above him, but Bee shifted, his knees closing on either side of Sam's hips to pin him to the seat.

"Do you want me to touch you, Sam?" Bumblebee asked through the radio. The holoform abandoned Sam's mouth, and brushed his lips over the pulse in Sam's throat instead.

"N-no," Sam whimpered, gasping as sharp teeth nipped at his throat and a warm tongue slid over it a moment later, washing away the sting.

The hand that wasn't gripping Sam's wrists came to rest at the waistband of his jeans, inches away from his erection.

"Are you sure?" Bee asked, as his holoform toyed with the button of Sam's jeans. "Your body is saying that it wants me to touch it, Sam. Your pheromones were never this high for Mikaela."

Sam shook his head, dizzy from shame and desire. "No," he whispered again, and Bee's hands withdrew from his waistband, settling instead on the hem of his t-shirt.

"Very well," Bee said. His finger hooked under the hem of Sam's t-shirt, peeling it up. Sam shivered as cool air touched the faint layer of sweat on his chest and his back pressed against the leather seat. Bee slid the shirt up to Sam's armpits and stopped, drawing back slightly, and Sam opened his eyes to see the holoform gazing down at him with wonder.

"Wh -- what is it?" Sam asked.

Bee shook his head. "You look different when we're the same size," he confessed, sounding almost shy for a moment. "I hadn't expected that."

Sam opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but the tenderness in Bee's expression disappeared, replaced by single-minded determination. The holoform lowered his head, fastening his mouth onto Sam's nipple, and Sam gasped, the exchange forgotten.

Bee's fingers found his other nipple, pinching and tugging at it even as he nipped and sucked at its twin, and Sam moaned, writhing on the leather seat. Again, he tried to close the distance between their groins, and again the holoform's strong thighs held him in place.

"You want me," Bee said through the radio, as the holoform continued to torment Sam's nipples. "You're desperate for me to touch you, aren't you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, closing his eyes against the expression on the holoform's face.

"Please," he begged, trying again to buck up. The holoform drew away, and Sam gasped as the hand that had been gripping his wrists loosened, replaced instead by the seatbelt, which moved of its own accord to loop around them.

"Please what?" Bee asked, as his hands drifted down Sam's chest.

"T-touch me," Sam whimpered.

Bee smiled down at him, and kissed his forehead almost chastely. He unfastened Sam's jeans, sliding them down his hips, and Sam gasped as warm fingers curled around him. One stroke, two, and Sam was arching up, spilling into Bee's hand.

His cheeks blushed red as the orgasm faded, and he screwed his eyes shut, feeling utterly naked on the backseat with his shirt shucked up and his jeans twisted around his hips. God, he hadn't come from a single touch like that since he was a teenager. Tears of relief and shame burned his eyes, and he shuddered. The leather seat warmed beneath him, and a strong hand curved around his cheek.

"It's all right Sam," Bee said. His voice had that staticky edge to it, so it had to be coming from the radio, not the holoform. The engine rumbled to life with that throaty Camaro purr that Sam loved, and he shuddered again, for a different reason, as the car pulled away from the curb.

Sam opened his eyes to see Bee's holoform gazing down at him with an expression that was equal parts tenderness and concern. As Sam watched, Bee lifted a dripping finger to his lips and licked Sam's semen off it.

"Fascinating," Bee whispered, and Sam trembled, his dick twitching, although he'd just come. Through the car window behind the holoform's shoulder, Sam watched the landscape around them giving way to open desert. Bee was picking up speed now, the purr of his engine reaching down to Sam's bones. Sam inhaled shakily as his dick began to swell again. He'd always loved fast cars.

The holoform winked at him, and reached for Sam's shoes. He tugged them off, tossing them . With careful gentleness, the holoform peeled Sam's jeans off his hips, his fingers grazing Sam's skin. Sam swallowed as the holoform's large hands cupped his ass cheeks and angled Sam's hips up. He'd be damned if the seat didn't tilt a little bit to make the job easier.

"Do you trust me?" Bee asked through the radio.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. He was flat on his back inside an alien robot speeding God-knows-where through the desert, his hands were still bound by the seatbelt, and the alien robot's holoform was nibbling a line along the inside of Sam's thigh. If only the president could see him now; it would open a new chapter in Autobot/human relations. But there could be only one answer to Bee's question.

"I trust you," he choked out. _More than I trust myself,_ he thought.

The holoform kissed his inner thigh, and caught Sam's ass cheeks, prying them apart. Sam gasped as a warm finger slid along his crack and teasingly circled his hole. The finger dipped just inside, experimentally, and the holoform lifted an eyebrow.

"You prepared yourself," Bee said.

Flushing, Sam nodded, biting his lip.

"When?" Bee asked.

Sam shook his head. The holoform moved so quickly that Sam barely registered the motion of his arm until a sharp smack landed on his ass cheek. He gasped, straining against the seatbelt.

"When?" Bee asked again.

"This evening."

"You wanted to get fucked tonight," Bee said, his finger dancing over and around Sam's entrance.

Sam nodded, blushing hotly.

"Who did you want?" Bee asked.

Sam hesitated, and another smack descended on his ass.

"You!" he blurted out. "It was you, I always want you, oh shit -- Bee!" he cried, as the holoform's finger pushed inside.

"You've made me so jealous," Bee said through the radio. His finger was moving inside of Sam, not so much fucking him as exploring him. Sam groaned as Bee brushed over his prostate. The holoform touched the sensitive spot again, as if confirming its presence, then, maddeningly, backed away from it, despite Sam's frantic wriggling against him.

"You know I never let you out of sensor range, Sam," Bee said, sliding his finger out of Sam and teasing the sensitive nerves around his asshole again. "I'm your guardian. You don't realize how much danger you might have put yourself in, leaving the base alone."

"Oh God," Sam gasped, horrified, embarrassed, and more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. The teasing finger thrust into him again, joined by a second, and Sam bucked helplessly against the holoform's hand.

"I've been following you," Bee said, confirming his fears. "I watched them fuck you. All of them, Sam. I've watched you open yourself for them. I've seen them take you."  
His fingers were thrusting in and out of Sam now, fucking him in earnest, and rhythm of his wrist and the rumble of his engine were the sweetest torture Sam had ever endeared in his life. Sam rocked back against the invading fingers, desperate for more.

"At first I didn't mind," Bee said. "I knew you would need to mate after Mikaela left you. But then I realized that you were choosing men who reminded you of me." He added a third finger, and Sam groaned, the tight ring of muscles around his entrance quivering.

"I hated them," Bee said. "I hated knowing you were looking for a human substitute for me. _I_ want to please you, Sam," Bee said, curving his fingers up to find Sam's prostate again. "I want to make you feel good."

"You do!" Sam gasped. "You are! Oh shit, Bee!" The Camaro sped over a hill, catching air for a moment as he crested it, and Sam shuddered as the rough decent rocked Bee's fingers even deeper into him.

"I . . . I've wanted you so much, Bee," Sam babbled. "I was so afraid you'd find out. I didn't think you'd want me. I wasn't even sure that you could . . ."

"I want you," the hologram breathed into his ear, hot breath tickling. "I can."

Abruptly, the fingers withdrew, leaving him empty

"Sam," Bee said through the speaker, sounding shaken. "I want . . . "

He hesitated, sounding unsure. Realizing this was outside the limits of the game, Sam leaned forward and kissed the leather seat.

"Anything," he promised.

The holoform hesitated only a second longer before he draped himself over Sam, leaning over his chest to fumble with something on the floor of the Camaro. Sam stared as the holoform reached under the driver's seat to depress a tiny button that Sam had never noticed before. A faint hiss of hydraulics, and a panel on the floor about the size of Sam's hand was swinging up. Sam stared as the holoform pulled out a thick cable capped by a long, thick, rubber plug.

"What . . . what is that?" Sam asked, straining against his bonds to peer at it.

Bumblebee trembled a bit beneath him, and the holoform actually blushed. "It's an interface cable," Bee said. The holoform fingered the tip, looking a little uncomfortable, and suddenly Sam realized what Bee was asking.

"God, yes," Sam breathed, laying back and spreading his legs wide.

Bee ducked down again, his body hiding his movement from Sam. When he straightened, the rubber plug was coated in lubricant. Sam trembled as the holoform traced the plug along his belly and thighs, drawing it along the length of Sam's erection and down over his balls. Sam couldn't suppress his nervous shiver when the holoform finally pressed the plug against his entrance -- the rubber tip was larger than most of the dicks he'd taken.

His adrenaline must have spiked or something, because the holoform smiled reassuringly at him, and pressed his free hand against Sam's hip. "It's okay, Sam," Bee said through the radio. "I'll be gentle."

Sam groaned as Bee's holoform slowly pressed the plug into him. It seemed to take an eternity, even as stretched as he was. The thick rubber eased inside him inch by inch. When it was finally encased in him completely, Sam could only lay on the car seat, trembling in pain and pleasure. He waited for Bee to move, both dreading and desiring the shifting length inside of him. Instead, the cable grew warm and started to vibrate. Sam gasped as a spark of something hit him. It felt like the plug were releasing liquid energy through his entire body -- Sam could feel it in his fingers and toes, and he swore his hair stood on end.

"Bee!" he cried, arching up. The holoform caught his hips, holding him down. Sam moaned as the sensation ebbed, shifting wantonly on the seat. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The speeding Camaro shuddered around him.

"You feel so good Sam," Bee said through the speakers, his voice staticky and rough. "So good!"

Another surge of energy hit him, stronger than before, and Sam cried out again. This time, a garbled, metallic noise sounded from the speakers, answering him. The holoform flickered and abruptly blinked away, leaving Sam alone in the backseat.

"Sorry," Bee rasped. "I couldn't maintain it anymore." He moaned with a grating, metallic sound, as another tide of energy surged through Sam, who arched up off the seat, digging his bare toes into the leather.

When the sensation receded enough for him to speak, Sam managed, "It's okay." And it was. Without the holoform, Sam was even more aware that this was _Bee_ buried inside him, Bee making him feel so good. He squirmed against the seat, trying to press every inch of his bare skin against the leather upholstery.

Again and again, the energy surged into him, each time lasting just a little bit longer, driving him closer to the brink. He'd never in his life felt pleasure like this -- it suffused his entire body, as if his very atoms were vibrating with it.

He swore he could feel Bee's pleasure answering his own, Bee's processors singing with Sam's excitement, creating a circuit between the two of them. The energy crested inside of them, and for a long, terrifying, moment, it was almost too much to bear. Sam's heart tightened in his chest, and for a second, he couldn't breathe. Then he was screaming, coming in long streams, and Bee was shaking around Sam like he might fly apart, over and around and inside of him, still driving so fast that it felt like they were flying.

Then the pleasure receded, and Bee drifted to a slow, shuddering stop. Sam sprawled limply on the seat, his ass still clenching around the rubber plug. He didn't think he could ever move again. From the series of clicking and the hissing of Bee's cooling system, he suspected the Autobot might feel the same way.

_Holy shit, I broke my car,_ Sam thought.

The seatbelts around his wrists loosened, freeing them. With trembling hands, Sam pulled the interface cable out, wincing as the rubber plug slid free of his body. He squeezed the tip, and Bumblebee shuddered, the engine making a series of exhausted clicks.

"That was incredible," Sam whispered, stroking the leather seat in front of him.

Bee made a low, electronic chirp of agreement, as if he were too tired to manage English words. His engine quieted, and Sam heard the unmistakable hum of Bee's back-up sensors engaging as the Autobot fell into recharge mode. Deciding that Bee had the right idea, Sam curled up in the backseat and fell asleep.

* * *

When Sam woke a few hours later, it was still dark outside. Wondering if Bee was still in recharge mode, Sam shifted on the leather seat. At the movement, the dashboard lights twinkled on, answering his unspoken question.

"Hey," Sam said softly, rubbing his eyes. His clothes were still scattered all over the backseat, and Sam blushed, acutely aware of his nakedness. At least Bee had adjusted his internal temperature to compensate for Sam's lack of clothing. He felt perfectly comfortable, if a little exposed.

Bee chirped sleepily at him as Sam found his sweatshirt and spread it over his lap.

"So, um, what now?" Sam asked, leaning against the window. Idly, he traced a circle on the leather upholstery of the backseat, amused when Bee trembled a little beneath his fingers.

"You require rest," Bee said. He hesitated a moment, then added, "You could sleep here. If you want to."

"Okay," Sam said, a little too quickly. He blushed, studying the floorboards. "What happens after this, though? With us?"

"Do you regret interfacing with me?" Bee asked. Beneath the careful neutrality of his voice, Sam detected a note of hurt, and he hurried to ease it.

"No! Not at all." Sam hesitated a moment. "Do you?"

"No," Bee assured him. "I've wanted this for a long time, Sam."

"Me too," Sam confessed shyly. A pulse of warmth travelled through the seatback, almost as good as a hand caressing him. When Bee spoke again, his voice was all business.

"Tomorrow you need to meet with Optimus Prime to prepare for the United Nations conference next week," Bee said, no doubt accessing the calendar on Sam's blackberry. "During the meeting, I will be helping Ironhide to configure our new weapons systems. However, I believe we have a date tomorrow evening."

"A date?" Sam asked, feeling his eyebrows rise.

"You did say you would go to a movie with me," Bee pointed out.

Sam chuckled, leaning back against the window. "That's right, I did." He smiled, and pressed a soft kiss against the glass. "I love you, Bee," he whispered.

Bee responded with a series of electronic coos. Sam's Cybertronian was still pretty basic, but even he recognized that phrase. Smiling, he cuddled down into the leather seat.. He was nearly asleep when a new thought occurred.

"Hey, Bee?"

The Autobot's engine rumbled at him.

"You put out before our first date," Sam said. "Does that mean Autobots are easy?"

The indignant sputtering from Bee's engine was entirely worth the blast of cold air that hit Sam a few seconds later.

The End


End file.
